


Ain't Life A Mystery?

by reaperlight



Category: Death Note
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Character Swap, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Power Swap, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Angst, Angst and Humor, Bad Religion, Baiting Death Gods, Boredom, Bratting, Character Bashing, Character Death, Corruption, Creepy, Creepy Fluff, Cultural References, Dark!Matt, Doom, Early in Canon, Fluff and Angst, God Complex, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hacking, High School, Insanity, Interspecies, Interspecies Relationship(s), Kink Meme, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Nonhuman Sex, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Punishment, Rivalry, Serial Killers, Shinigami, Slash, Songfic, Teenagers, Video & Computer Games, Video Game Mechanics, Wammy House, Wammy's Era, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000, accidental murder, it seemed like a good idea at the time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-07 08:02:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reaperlight/pseuds/reaperlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if the Death Note landed at a different school?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dark Side Points

**Author's Note:**

> _Cat's foot, iron claw_   
>  _Neurosurgeon, scream for more_   
>  _Innocence raped with napalm fire_   
>  _Everything I want, I really need._   
>  _\- "21st Century (Digital Boy)", Bad Religion_

It was lunch time at Wammy's House and Matt was just walking along through the courtyard (as usual glued to his PSP and not watching where he was going) minding his own business when he tripped on something that had been lying on the ground. Matt yelped as he landed on his ass and, even worse, he could only watch in horror as in slow motion, his beloved PSP sailed out of his hands and shattered on impact with the ground. Matt cursed his luck. He wouldn't be able to sneak off to town for replacement parts until the end of the week! Jeez. What the fuck was he going to DO until then? Matt picked himself up to find he was sitting on the thing that had caused him to fall. The offending item was a book—a black notebook to be precise with the words "Death Note" written on the cover with... maybe it was whiteout? Curiosity piqued, he opened the book and read the first line.

"The human whose name is written in this note shall die." Matt rolled his eyes. That was pretty sick.

He was about to toss it when he reconsidered upon casually scanning over the elaborate rules... Somebody had too much time on their hands. Yeah it was messed up but the very idea of one of the students here coming up with this shit... that was surely good for a few laughs. Mello would no doubt appreciate this particular brand of humor.

***

 

_"I can't talk now Mattie. I'm **this close** to beating him this time."_

Matt gave an irritated sigh as he returned to their shared dorm room which was currently empty. Mello was going to spend all night in the library again, working himself towards an early heart attack trying to outdo "that stupid sheep." Matt tried not to get involved in Mello and Near's rivalry but some days, like today for instance, Matt got annoyed that Mello's obsession with the albino took up so much of his time and attention.

Matt sprawled on his bed at an awkward angle, kicking his boots in the air while staring vacantly at the wall. His fingers twitched, deprived of his PSP. Roger had already confiscated his X-box earlier that week after an incident in Near's room which involved an envelope filled with shaving cream being stuck partway under the door, followed by a large encyclopedia being dropped on said envelope. (That was totally not his fault by the way—alas apparently he was guilty by association...)

Matt was so bored.

He had already done all his course work (deliberately getting many of the answers wrong so as not to step on Mello's toes.) But now there was NOTHING to do.  
Meanwhile that stupid notebook innocuously sat on his desk almost like it was... waiting.  
Matt had all but forgotten about it...

That's not true. He had tried to forget about it but it was always there in the back of his mind. Almost like it was calling...

While Matt was more er... mellow than Mello he also was never too good about the whole "impulse control business" either. He preferred to do things that offered instant gratification—like video games.

But wouldn't it be great if he could just zap all his problems away? If Near would just... disappear?

No more Near... and Mello could finally relax and focus on the things that were really important...

Matt laughed and shook his head. He was getting way too serious about this. It wasn't healthy. And what the hell was he thinking? Matt didn't even really hate Near-at least it wasn't the frothing rage of a certain chocoholic blonde. And as if a Notebook could actually kill someone anyway—that defied all logic, right?  
Matt began to approach his desk nervously but stopped himself. Scared? Of a stupid notebook?

Mello would laugh at him for weeks.

This was ridiculous-it was just a dumb prank!

And he'd prove it. He'd write a name down and they'd all laugh about it later.

But which name?

Well that should be obvious—Matt wrote "NEAR" in large, scrawling letters at the top of the first page.  
Yeah, Mello was sure to get a kick out of seeing the name "NEAR" (or as the Wammy's mainframe he once hacked into for kicks revealed—Nate River) in this supposed "murder notebook." As an afterthought Matt wrote "Nate River" down too, chuckled, and then closed the book.

Yes, surely Mello would approve.


	2. Game Over, Use Extra Life?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _'Cause we are all a bunch of animals_   
>  _That never paid attention in school._   
>  _So tell me all about your problems;_   
>  _I was killing before killing was cool._   
>  _\- "Kill All Your Friends," My Chemical Romance_

Matt looked up, saw the time, and began to panic.  
Shit, he was going to be late to Chem again! The scenester grabbed his things and threw them in his backpack (throwing the notebook in with them as afterthought). The backpack hung loosely off one shoulder as he pretended to be cool and casual as he hurried his way down the hall. But then he overheard something that stopped him dead in his tracks.  
"Hey, did you hear about Near? He just collapsed in the middle of giving his report in history class! They said… he had a heart attack," one of the girls told another in a hushed tone. 

_"WHAT?!"_ Matt exclaimed out loud. _No way! There's no way! This isn't possible!_  
After his outburst both of the girls turned to stare at him and Matt identified the speaker—it was Linda, she was leaning casually against the lockers, speaking conspiratorially with another girl he had seen around, the one with attention-seeking rainbow streaked hair dye—Sue he believed her name was.

"Heh. It's not that surprising really," Sue said with a humorless grin while obnoxiously snapping her chewing gum. "He never went outside or exercised or anything." 

"Is he… is he going to be alright?" Matt asked hopefully as he subconsciously shifted his bag on his shoulder-his backpack suddenly felt heavy and burning for what he was carrying in it. 

Both girls glared at him like he was retarded. Dammit—he was never any good with talking to girls even under the best of circumstances. There was a long, awkward silence, punctuated by another snap of chewing gum. 

"How the hell should I know?!" grunted Sue. 

"I just saw them taking him out to the ambulance…" whispered Linda.

Then the final bell rang and on impulse Matt rushed for his Chem class. 

Matt couldn't really pay attention to a word the teacher said—being a bit preoccupied with the notion that he might have killed Near. He didn't really have anything against Near. He hadn't really wanted him dead. It was just a stupid joke! In poor taste, sure, but he just wanted to make Mello happy! He didn't mean to... 

No. This was impossible, right? 

This just… it couldn't be happening! This was like a nightmare… So why wasn't he waking up? This just… it wasn’t possible. It had to be a coincidence! C'mon, a notebook that kills people? Please! It just… it couldn’t be true! It did not compute! He couldn't possibly be responsible for Near! 

Pen + Paper ≠ Heart Attack! 

It wasn't real, it just couldn't be… 

Because if it was real… 

If it was real he was a murderer. If it was real his life was OVER! Dammit, he was too pretty for prison! 

But what if Pen + Paper + Magic = Heart Attack? 

No, of course not. That wasn’t the least bit logical—this was MAGIC he was seriously thinking about and if magic really existed then why didn’t Santa Claus (or rather Santa Wammy) get him a pet dragon for Christmas like he wanted since he was 10? 

It took Linda kicking at his desk to snap Matt out of his panicked, racing thoughts and notice the teacher was calling on him; having noticed his inattention, and Matt realized, belatedly that in the unlikely event that this all WAS real and not a pizza-induced nightmare he was going to wake up from any moment now, it wouldn’t do to appear too suspicious now—that would lead to awkward questions later—so why wouldn’t the Matt be paying attention if his precious DS was broken..? 

_I have no choice… Sorry buddy._

Matt made a big show for his classmates and the teacher of feeding his keychain virtual pet which of course led to the teacher confiscating said virtual pet. 

_Dammit. Poor lil' Sephi. I just know that asshole won't feed him. He'll starve to death in the desk drawer, what a horrible way to go, and I'll have to start over again from an egg! Oh noble Sephiroth, I promise your sacrifice will not have been in vain!_ Matt silently vowed vengeance for his virtual pet and decided the only way to really know for sure if the notebook was indeed a fake and thus preserve what remained of his sanity would be to test it again. But in case it WAS real who would be deserving...? 

_Perhaps the virtual pet murderer?_

No, his Chem teacher would be too obvious a choice (just now.) He had to find someone not connected to him in any way. 

Perhaps during lunch he'd just turn on the telly and see if there were any axe murderers loose in London... 


	3. Up, Up, Down, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, B, A, Start…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I wish I had waited for you_   
>  _I wish I could invoke some better part of me_   
>  _I know I'm supposed to be all "The One", but I have too much fun killing everyone_   
>  _\- “Indiscriminate Murder Is Counter-productive”, Machinae Supremacy_

Matt had failed to find any Jack the Ripoffs prowling around modern London that he could test the notebook on, mostly because he was too busy with all his homework to go looking for them but the news that evening would report that a certain creator and purveyor of crappy video game movies by the name of Uvve Boll would be found dead in his home of a sudden, inexplicable heart attack and while there was much rejoicing over this news most glorious, Matt could not properly partake in the celebration for it had cemented his fears that his new cursed demon notebook was, in fact, real. 

Matt had tried erasing Near’s name. He didn’t expect it to work but he figured that if he had been the cause he owed it to Near to at least give it a shot. Matt had considered destroying the notebook but then… what if he needed it later? Of course he didn’t _want_ to kill anybody else but if video games had taught him anything it was you don’t just toss aside the megaweapon you find lying around because odds are you’ll _need it_ because there’s a big boss battle coming up just around the corner. Oh, Matt knew that the notebook wasn’t a game of course. He’d accidentally killed his classmate with it—so obviously the Notebook was _Serious Business_ and should be treated as such. So Matt just ripped out the page with Near’s and Mr. Boll’s names in it, shredded it to pieces, and set it alight—the orange tongues of flame twisted and danced in the reflection of his goggles as Matt watched the page burn to cinders in his ashtray. 

Matt then attended the rest of his classes—keeping his expression bored and blank as usual—and just went about his day, pretending he hadn’t killed two people. Or maybe, hopefully, just one now—Matt had yet to hear if he had been successful in his attempts to resurrect Near. Though he’d imagine it would have caused quite a stir had he been successful (but then it would have been easy enough to explain away too—after all, the weird albino kid had kind of looked like a zombie anyway…) 

***

To Matt’s great discomfort and secret annoyance ever since Roger made the announcement of Near’s untimely demise Mello had taken to unofficially living in Near’s old dorm. It was maddening—Mello had nothing but good things to say about Near now that he was dead! 

_I did it for him! So he’d be happy…_ Matt thought hysterically as the blonde sobbed into his shoulder. _I suppose this is what an “Epic Fail” looks like..._

Matt tried to comfort his friend but bearing this guilt was painful—seeing Mello like that, Matt nearly confessed right then and there but then Mello had broken down and confided in him, going all mushy like _“you’re so great, you’re my only friend, Matt. I don’t know what I’d do without you…”_ and Matt had realized that while confessing might alleviate some of the guilt he was feeling at the moment, it would not only ruin his life but it would bring Mello no peace, no it would _utterly destroy_ Mello; so that just wasn’t an option. He just couldn’t hurt Mello! At least no more than he already had. 

_Mello must never know._ Matt resolved he would carry his secrets to the grave. 

Matt stayed with his distraught friend as much as he could but, really, he couldn’t get away fast enough. That seemed to be alright with Mello who kept insisting he wanted to be alone anyway. Of course he’d be there for Mello, or so Matt had told himself, but in all honesty he was avoiding him as much as possible.

***

Matt knew that the Death Note wasn’t a game—or so he kept telling himself—but he kept coming back to it anyway. The teen told himself that it was Justice that needed to be done. It sounded so much better than admitting it was because he had nothing better to do since Mello was still sulking in Near’s room, his X-Box was still confiscated, and his PSP was broken. He’d already killed. No matter what he did, he would always be a murderer. He was boned anyway. So, the teen figured he might as well try for a high score. And maybe, just maybe he’d do a bit of good by eliminating the forces of evil. Or so he told himself anyway. But that didn’t stop him from having the occasional emo moment over his newest unhealthy addiction. The Death Note, which was _NOT_ a game, wasn’t like any video game he’d ever played—each and every enemy was like a custom mod, each had a name and a face and a horrific story to tell. 

Matt couldn’t help but marvel at just how frickin’ easy it was to snuff out human lives. This book was like the ultimate Cheat Code. The notebook did indeed prove useful in stopping assorted super criminals and abusive scumbags who thought they could beat the system. Matt idly twirled his pen as he imagined the possibilities— _if only_ he had this notebook back when his mother had first brought home his asshole of a step-father. It was a moot point now, he supposed (unless there was some way to resurrect him just so that he could kill the bastard himself…) 

***

Matt kept his goggles down most of the time now and didn’t let his feelings show through. Others would only think he was upset over Near’s death and because Mello was still depressed, which was pretty much true, just not true in the way they were imagining it. Listening to Mello’s innocent guilt slinging was becoming something of a masochistic ritual of Matt’s. It was playing havoc on the teen’s guilty conscience but that same guilty conscience refused to ignore his best friend in his time of need. 

When he wasn’t comforting Mello or using the notebook Matt applied himself to his school work like never before in an effort to ignore the fact he was being driven insane by the guilt and to avoid thinking about that niggling concern of his that he was being corrupted by Satan’s Day Planner. His teachers were naively thrilled with this development but this only made things worse for Matt. Now Mello wasn’t speaking to him at all because he accidentally outdid him in one of their classes. 

So Matt tried to dumb things down again but the teachers and, more importantly, Mello wasn’t buying it and now Mello kept trying to show him up at every opportunity and it just wasn’t cool at all. 

Matt shut himself in his room, taking his frustrations out on the world’s criminal population until he reminded himself, once again, that the Death Note was not a game.

Matt looked at how many names he’d written and he nearly puked. 

Yeah, he’d joked about wanting a high score and all but the Death Note really wasn’t a game and maybe, just maybe, he was going a bit overboard with this. Matt sighed and lit up a calming cig. It’s not like he could take it back and there wasn’t a name in that book that wasn’t like, totally evil. Well, except for Near’s but when you came down to it, he was kind of prick too. 

***

Matt was currently a space marine in Hell. Because there was nothing quite like blasting through legions of demons with a sawed-off shotgun for working out one’s frustrations (except for maybe writing in the Death Note—Matt quickly banished the thought) and, Matt thought ruefully that the way things were going for him, this might just be good practice for the real thing. The entire past week just seemed to be a downward spiral for Matt. Things just kept going more and more wrong between him and Mello and though he’d swore he’d cut back he was using the notebook more often than ever. Angry at himself for sinking so low and determined to kick the habit, Matt had found an alternative use for the Death Note… 

The trouble was Matt had a very addictive personality and thus it was exceptionally difficult for him to resist the siren call of the notebook. Of course an outside observer wouldn’t notice any change in Matt’s behavior. The teen dealt with stress through escapism so if anyone ever bothered to look in on the redhead they would see him acting as he always did—indulging in his usual chain smoking and, now that he had his X-Box back, marathon gaming. Matt always figured it was better than wallowing in angst and all that crap... 

**“Well, I can honestly say I’ve never seen the notebook used THAT way before!”**

In an attempt to ignore the notebook, Matt had used it to prop up one leg of his rickety coffee table. The one he used to store his game crap when he was playing like this. Said coffee table was littered with the lime green game cases and what passed for a gamer’s sustenance—mainly Mountain Dew and potato chips. The strange visitor pouted for there was not an apple in sight. 

Matt, engrossed in his game, barely even registered the speaker or even that another presence had just appeared in his locked bedroom behind him. 

“Yeah, sure, just a minute!” the teen snapped, irritably as he plunged his chainsaw into the chest of the huge cybernetic hellhound currently trying to rip his head off. The chainsaw roared over the bugling cries of the beast and blood and gore splattered all over the screen with a satisfying squelch. 

**“Woah! Th-the things you humans come up with! I— _I think I’m going to be sick!_ ” **

_“What?!_ It’s just a game! It’s not hurting anybod—” Matt began, automatically giving the age old argument for whenever someone dared to critique his beloved games when the words died in his throat when he turned around and actually saw who was speaking to him. 

Matt abruptly dropped his X-Box controller and his cig fell from his lips as they parted in shock. Large black talons shot out, catching the still-burning cigarette butt before it hit the ground. 

**“Hey, didn’t you know? These things will kill ya’!”** The monster said helpfully. 

Matt figured he was fortunate that he was already sitting on the ground in front of the TV screen because that meant he didn’t have that far to fall when he began to feel faint upon seeing what was behind him—that white, noseless, almost skull-like face full of grinning fangs that was all lit up by the thing’s eerie bulbous eyes that gleamed ominously with their own light. It was like if the Joker and Voldemort had a demon spawn of a kid who was currently going through a Goth phase. In any case Matt hoped that his nocturnal visitor wasn’t about to show him a magic trick. As the thing just stood there, _grinning_ at him like some sort of deranged clown demon the sky outside Matt’s bedroom window was suddenly, melodramatically, lit up with lightning. Meanwhile the power abruptly went out in his room and Matt realized, to his horror, that he hadn’t saved his game. 

_This has to be a nightmare!_

Matt pinched himself. 

_Nope, still awake. Dammit!_

The gamer was beginning to wonder if Mello had pranked him; replaced his cigarettes with weed or something because there was no way what he was seeing was for real!

Determined to prove that what he was seeing was just a hallucination (and since the thing didn’t _seem_ too hostile at least for the moment, seeing as it was just standing there) Matt bravely reached out to touch the monster. At first Matt felt vindicated when his hand went right the creature’s leg and seemed to prove that it was just a hallucination... 

That was until the creature, snickering, lightly poked him in the shoulder. 

_Alright, there really is a demonic monster thing standing in the middle of my bedroom..._

_Breathe, Matt._

_Just because there’s something here doesn’t mean it’s… it could still be a prank. Somehow!_

The more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed—after all, the thing was dressed up in tight leather—that was practically Mello’s calling card. Maybe it was like… a hologram or something? And maybe Mello hired a circus freak just to mess with him. 

_Maybe it’s like a guy in a costume. A very big guy… Or maybe it’s like two smaller guys standing on each other. Nah, it’s doubtful that they could pull off a stunt like that in skintight leather. So it’s just, like, a big, strange man sneaking into my bedroom. Yeah, that’s alright then. No problem there... Goddamn it, Mello!_

“Ha ha. Very funny. Do you do parties?” 

**“Parties? Parties are fun!”** the deranged clown-thing declared enthusiastically. Despite the lack of apples things appeared to be looking up for him. Though he had crashed many over the centuries no one had ever _invited_ him to a party before… 

“Just how much is Mello paying you anyway?” 

**“Huh? No one’s paying me. I don’t need any—well, unless you have apples, that is… _hyuk!_ ”**

“No one’s paying you? Then why are you…?”

 **“Because you picked up my notebook of course!”**

There was, of course, absolutely no question as to which “notebook” he was referring to but just in case the human was as stupid as he was currently behaving (hopefully not and probably not—the Shinigami had noticed he tended to have that effect on humans when they saw him for the first time though he had no idea why) the Shinigami subtly glanced over to where the said weapon of mass destruction was propping up Matt’s coffee table. 

Matt recalled the first words written in the margins of the notebook: _“This is a Shinigami’s Notebook.”_

“You… you’re a _Shinigami?!”_

**“Yes, exactly. I’m a Shinigami. A God of Death.”**

“I… see…” A Shinigami, the original owner of the notebook, a monster that was no doubt here to visit upon him some hellish punishment for using the cursed diary... 

Matt shifted around, slowly getting up from his spot on the floor, when he noticed that his blue jeans were conspicuously damp. Matt’s cheeks matched the color of his hair when he realized that at some point he must have pissed himself. The teen got to his feet and attempted to salvage the tattered remains of his dignity. 

“So I take it you’re here to… what? Kill me? Take my soul? Force me to play Captain Novolin? What?” 

**“Huh?”**

“I’ll accept any punishment you’re willing to give me! Well? Come on then! Punish me! _Do it you pussy!_ I haven’t got all day!” Matt snapped. 

The Shinigami regarded the human with a strange, well _stranger_ , look on his ever-grinning face. In retrospect perhaps mouthing off to a God of Death wasn’t a genius move.

 **“Well, Mail…”**

The teenager cringed at the sound of his birth name, “It’s Matt, if you please and how the fuck did you know that god-awful name?” 

The creature chuckled again. **“Well Matt, we Shinigami have the power to instantly know every human’s name just by looking at them. I see your name right now, floating above your head!”**

“Ugh! I hate that name! Is there any way to change it?” 

**“Uh, no…”**

“Fuck.” 

**“You know, you can have Shinigami Eyes too for just half your lifespan!”**

“Uh… Pass. It generally makes for poor strategy to cast from hit points. Besides I wouldn’t want to see _that name_ when I look in the mirror every day. Why are you trying to sell me eyes, anyway? I thought you were here to punish me.”

**“Well _Matt,_ I wasn’t planning on punishing you… “**

It took a moment for Matt to register this since he was distracted by the hypnotic glinting of the silver heart chain that was dangling from the monster’s ear. 

“You… you weren’t?” 

**“Nope! However since you seem to think you’ve earned it I’ll be happy to oblige you! I can think of a few things…”**

“Er… You don’t have to, you know… “

**“Get over here!”**

The Shinigami’s scary guttural growling had the boy complying.


End file.
